


A Study in Perspectives

by fresne



Series: Variations on an Equation [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha John, Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Time, Intercrural Sex, M/M, MaleAlpha/MaleAlpha, No mpreg, Pastiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2515739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where in a gaslit age while a widowed Omega Queen Victoria sat on the throne, Professor James Moriarty met Sherlock Holmes but once. Two cases and one fall off a waterfall for one of them. </p><p>In that reality, dashing Alpha Doctor John Watson was the faithful Boswell to that bohemian Alpha Consulting Detective, the only Consulting Detective in the world. Sometimes the good Doctor recorded cases as they happened. Sometimes documenting for posterity years after the fact.</p><p>Where the explanation for a very curious set of papers that were found in the pockets of a body believed to be none other than the dastardly Professor Moriarty, we poor readers can but speculate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for Omegaverse. Knotting. Victorianish porny descriptions.
> 
> Counts for the MaleAlpha/Male Alpha entry to this series set.
> 
> The following may be considered as inspiration for my work and inspiration for my dialogue, possibly even quotes because apt quotes are cool:  
> Okay, if you've finished, you know I need to link most directly to the works of [Katie Forsythe](http://liquidfic.org/katie.html), whose incredibly sensual ACD Sherlock pastiches are gorgeous as well as more recent fic as wordstrings. 
> 
> Since I'm not a Holmsian enough to have done the nitpicking at dates (and really consensus there is not), here's the sites I used for looking up the oft married life of one Doctor John Watson.
> 
> http://www.sherlockpeoria.net/Who_is_Sherlock/WatsonsWives.html  
> http://www.sherlockpeoria.net/Who_is_Sherlock/SherlockTimeline.html  
> http://fanlore.org/wiki/Watsonian_vs._Doylist

Where in a gaslit age while a widowed Omega Queen Victoria sat on the throne, Professor James Moriarty met Sherlock Holmes but once. Two cases and one fall off a waterfall for one of them.

In that reality, dashing Alpha Doctor John Watson was the faithful Boswell to that bohemian Alpha Consulting Detective, the only Consulting Detective in the world. Sometimes the good Doctor recorded cases as they happened. Sometimes documenting for posterity years after the fact.

That he was bonded by the summer of 1887 must be certain, for he wrote of his good friend Holmes visiting their marital establish in July of that year. What in July was blooming, by September had the Doctor documenting that his lady was visiting her mother. Soon dashing Doctor Watson wrote of himself once more living with his friend Holmes. Perhaps that bonded bliss was annulled.

Certainly, in October of 1887, he wrote of himself taking part in a case a few weeks before his bonding. How that was possible given the length of time for an annulment to occur, is hard to know. But then again Doctor Watson did have some connections with minor government officials.

As to what tragedy then occurred, we cannot know, for the good Doctor did not record it. But by January 7th of 1888, Doctor Watson wrote of living with his dear friend Holmes whilst they were upon one of their most singular cases crossing figurative swords with the dread Professor Moriarty in that case known as the Valley of Fear.

That he must have married again is clear. For by March of 1888, Doctor Watson wrote of how his bonded bliss had come between himself and his dear friend, and they had not seen each other for some months. A pity when friends are parted.

Never fear, for by September of 1888, Doctor Watson was once more set up in his bachelor establishment with his dear Alpha friend. For that was the year that the good Doctor wrote his thrilling tale of meeting the orphaned Mary Morstan during the adventure of the Sign of Four. That they were bonded during the June adventure of the Stock-broker's Clerk in 1889 must be certain, for Doctor Watson wrote of it himself.

He was certainly bonded in April of 1891 when his dear friend's life was threatened by the dread Professor Moriarty and they escaped to Switzerland.

What occurred to cast a shadow on the fate of Mrs. Watson nee Morstan cannot be known. There was no mention of her on Sherlock's return in 1894. Although, there was some small reference to a bereavement. Certainly, John moved back in with his Alpha friend quickly enough after the thrilling case of the Empty House in April of that year

Alas, in 1903, surely a long stretch after such a flurry, Mr. Holmes himself wrote of his dear friend abandoning him for a bonded.

Outside of all of this, there were the years Mr. Holmes spent undercover in Chicago, ending in 1914, with Doctor Watson himself writing of preparing once again to join the military and do his duty during the long years of war. No mention of what his wife thought of such a parting.

It is sad to think at times of friendships so often separated.

Or when contemplating such a chronology, the tragedy of romance so often shattered. The joys of a romantic so frequently finding new Omega loves to bond with.

Now there is a theory that for every story there are three perspectives that explain why things are described the way they are in the narrative. As this applies to all tales, it must apply to even mostly true ones like the good Doctor's.

There is the Doylist perspective. This is based on the reasons that Doctor Watson's literary agent Arthur Conan Doyle might have required certain things be documented. Presumably increased sales. Although, as time went on Doctor Watson's literary agent was less and less interested in his most famous client. Almost as if a rift had developed between them. But then again, in later years Doyle was very concerned with spiritualism and the purity of spirit.

There is the Watsonian perspective that documents events that occurred from within the narrative itself. This is known as the in-universe perspective. Any inconsistencies arise because we are all questionable narrators in our own lives.

There is also the less commonly discussed perspective, which is Forsythian in nature, where any inconsistencies in the narrative arise from concealing a love that dare not speak its name. Although, with Doctor Watson so frequently speaking of his Omega loves, this would not seem to apply.

Now it is important to remember, Doctor John Watson was Sherlock Holmes' chronicler. He was a writer. Also, for two Alphas to be together at that time was very much against law.

Ask Oscar Wilde. Ask Professor Moriarty and Colonel Moran. Actually, don't. You'll get nothing but witticisms from the one, and air gun bullets from the other two.

Merely remember that writers write.

~~~~~  
Now past is prologue. This has been to place in context a very curious set of papers that were found in the pockets of a body believed to be none other than the dastardly Professor Moriarty.

They read as follows.

***

In 1878, I washed ashore home with a wound from the second Afghan war that had left me brown as a nut and thin as a wraith. My soldier's pension was barely enough to sustain me. It is even now not enough to meet my needs. How else would I be driven, but by the necessity of my growling belly to write for sale that which the shame of my inverted nature should have me conceal.

But I have begun poorly. I fear this narrative shall not improve with continuing, but so I must.

Without the funds to live on my own, I took lodgings with Mr. H, a pale eyed student, whose periaptic studies were a cypher to me, while I was an open book to him. He had but lately opened up to me as to his true occupation, that of a consulting detective, the only one in the world, and allowed me the great privilege of accompanying him on an adventure that I hope to one day describe. Better that I had started there and not with this tawdry tale, but in this tale there are funds for food and, dare I admit, for my habit of indulging in games of chance that I can ill afford. I have yet to find an agent for the investigative adventures of two unknowns.

Now, not a week after that adventure to which I allude, Mrs. H – no relation to Mr. H, who that good Beta treated as her own Milk child – had just brought us our breakfast, when Mr. H. tapped the top of his soft boiled egg and said, "I perceive that you are an invert."

All the blood quite drained from my face, as you may imagine, to have my darkest secret so openly stated.

He set down his spoon with a clatter. "No, no, Doctor. I had not intended to alarm you." He looked most distressed. "I merely wished." He glanced at the Persian slipper stuffed full of shag. "I have not. This is not my area."

He placed his hand upon the table and brushed the little finger of his supremely sensitive hand against my own. Dear Reader, I had spent the last thirty minutes admiring those very hands. Had imagined those long slender fingers doing far fouler things than caressing newsprint.

I shivered for if his scent had not well alerted me, the oils so imbued well conveyed his Alpha nature that called like the clarion of battle to the inversion in my own.

He looked at me most imperiously down his aquiline nose, yet beneath his manner, I saw to my astonishment that my fellow lodger's nerves were quite taunt.

I knew then that Mr. H. was an innocent in these matters. I felt my heart swell at the courage it must have taken for Mr. H. to raise this matter with me.

Emboldened then in a way I had not felt since before my injury, since I had felt myself to be a young Alpha buck with a soldier's uniform and a certain way about me that had served me well on three continents. Dear Reader, I removed my foot from my slipper and brushed my great toe against the soft sliver of skin above Mr. H.'s ankle.

Mr. H. shivered and a flush crept up those supremely pale cheeks.

I took his wrist in my hand and breathed in anew at the call of his Alpha nature. I said, "Mr. H., you appear quite flushed. Your pulse is erratic." I moved my fingers up and down his wrist. "As your," I raised my chin as my Alpha nature was roused by his own, "Doctor, I must insist that you seek complete quiet and bed rest."

In an energetic manner, he withdrew his hand from mine. "I am in my manner generally not inclined to being commanded."

By some instinct and by no small experience, I knew then to give way was to be trampled forever by this friend whose interests so consumed my own. I am no retiring maiden Omega, but an Alpha man of the world.

I pulled onto myself the posture of the soldier I had been and in a tone that had once set orderlies to scrambling, I said, "Mr. H., I will brook no argument. It is through your own disregard for the well-being of your flesh that you find yourself in this fevered predicament. As your personal physician, I insist that you take to your bed at once."

"Ah, as you are my personal physician," he leaned back in his chair and, Dear Reader, for all the hectic flush to his pale cheeks, he looked to me as louche as a young Alpha buck who having spent his night carousing in the stews calls for his bath, "I shall place myself entirely in your hands."

I nodded coolly to him then. "As you should." I went directly downstairs where I informed Mrs. H, and B, our page, that Mr. H needed complete rest on account of his nerves and they should leave the house undisturbed for the rest of the afternoon. Mrs. H. was most sympathetic, while B. was delighted to have the day to himself.

Determined that Mr. H.'s first experience be a memorable one, I went to a foul corner of this cesspool of a city where certain less reputable chemists set up shop and where someone of my inclinations might procure a solution of Omega extraction. Although, Dear Reader, you may be certain that I did not sign my own name to the purchase.

I fairly flew home. When I arrived, I found our rooms quite dim and the curtains drawn.

Mr. H. lay supine upon the couch clothed only in a silken robe that lay open to reveal the marble like flesh of his body. I must confess, I experienced some trepidation then. That such a well formed youth, like Hermes himself, whose body was unspoiled but for the scattered marks upon one arm should be touched by one such as I, whose flesh had been withered by injury and illness.

Mr. H. opened his silvery gaze and with a strangely sweet smile upon those commanding lips said, "Doctor, I find myself quite ill. What do prescribe?" I locked the door then on my fears. I saw from his gaze anticipation of my prescription. Of course, Mr. H. even in his innocence was several steps ahead of myself.

I placed my medical bag down upon the floor next to my friend and took a seat at his side on the couch. I set to examining him quite thoroughly. I placed the cool metal of my stethoscope on Mr. H.'s well-formed chest and listened to his heart. I said, "Your heart is beating quite fast." I placed my hand upon his brow. "You have a slight fever."

"I would have a greater one," replied Mr. H. somewhat impatiently.

"I know just what to prescribe, but first I should finish the examination." I did so most thoroughly. Oh, Dear Reader, you may believe I was very thorough indeed. I began by pushing aside his silken robe and examined Mr. H. for any swelling of the member, which I found. It may surprise you to know that I berated him for the poor care he took to his health as I went, but I did. Giving vent to my concerns over his diet and sleeping habits and yes, his use of cocaine.

Mr. H. was not silent through all of this. He quite vehemently proclaimed his body was his own to use as transport should be used. So we trumpeted at each other like pawing bucks. All through my berating and his protestations, I examined him most thoroughly.

Finally, he cried out, giving way to me, "Doctor! Will you give me no relief from this fever?"

Seeing that my friend was in distress, and feeling that distress upon my own person, I removed Mr. H to his bedroom for his greater comfort and having set flannels in place, set to removing my own clothes for the procedure. When I had disrobed and was quite bare, I poured the Omega solution into my palm, gasping as Mr. H's room filled with not an odiferous scent of chemicals, but rather that of a different nature. I applied the solution with a delicate touch to my dear friend's member, even as to increase the swelling at its root until he cried out, "Doctor, my fever is increasing."

I pressed my dear friend, now my patient in this matter onto his side and applied the solution to my own thighs and my own member to its greater swelling. Then placing Mr. H's member between those thighs we set to moving such that Mr. H's swollen knot passed in a pleasing manner against the gems that hung there. We continued at this exercise for some time, until such time as Mr. H. cried out and his knot expanded quite rapidly betwixt my thighs. I squeezed quite tightly and felt as he well anointed the prepared flannel before me.

When it was well to do so, I placed both hands around the knot that I might keep the pressure on and applied my lips to the head of my friend's swollen member saying, "I must draw out the poison now."

"Do it," cried my friend, almost entirely undone. I drew what poison out that I deemed necessary, licking my lips to see him so unravelled. From there I carefully wrapped the swollen knot in a bandage of silk and flannel and massaged it until I judged Mr. H. was quite spent and the swelling had gone down.

I was certain that he was done and would now fall to sleep, leaving me to my own care. Here I misjudged Mr. H., who said, "I would seem to have transferred the fever from myself to you. As I am a quick study, I will apply your own techniques to save you."

This he did until Dear Reader I was as limp as a well wrung rope.

Then when all was languorous within me, in one of those sudden furies, he bounded out of bed, quite nude, and his silken black curls hair in disarray. He said, "Dear boy, having discovered a blood reagent, what say you that I examine this solution to see if I can manufacture a blend for our own specifications."

I was disinclined to great movement, feeling at great peace with the world. "I think you should do so when Mrs. H and B do not have the afternoon off. Further, it is possible that this fever is malarial in nature. As your Doctor, I must insist you rest. You are still quite ill and will require medicine again within the hour."

"Oh," said Mr. H. "Oh. Yes. I am quite ill and unsteady upon my feet." He leapt into bed with a great bound and attached himself to my side where I was more than happy for him to be.

That is how my first encounter with Mr. H. ended.

Now as to how I found that he had laid out my old uniform and procured a riding crop and cavalry boots as if we were mounted soldiers, that tale shall have to wait until such time as straights move me to shame myself so again.

Pray then that my luck at the tables is good and you'll hear no more of our depravity.

***

Now as to why this narrative was found in the jacket pocket of a body that might be that of the late Professor Moriarty, cannot be said. Perhaps to the thought of some vile slander.

But to what purpose given Doctor Watson's self-confessed much bonded history? There could be no possible suspicion that he was an invert. While as to Mr. Holmes, he was quite famously in love with the Woman. It was after all described in the very first story that Doctor Watson wrote after recording that of their first adventure that of the study in scarlet. While the events of the Scandal in Bohemia occurred in March of 1888 when the good Doctor's own bonding had caused him to drift away from his friend. With both of them in love with Omegas, albeit of different qualities, how could any aspersions be expected to stick?

The foul purpose the Professor intended, his Doylistic or Watsonian reasoning… but I cannot type such a phrase. His reasoning must derive from a fourth perspective Moriartian, where the villain is the hero of their own narrative. What his villainous heroic purpose was has been lost in that fall and we, poor readers, can but speculate.


	2. [podfic] A Study in Perspectives

Size: 8.3Mb, 23:39

  
  
[Download this episode (right click and save)](http://fresne.podbean.com/mf/web/3yaicv/AStudyInPerspectives.mp3)

**Author's Note:**

> If after reading my fiction here, you would like to read more about me and my writing check out my profile.


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